Snowy White
by DarkSecrets666
Summary: Lucius is dying and Draco just wants his father home. Who can help him? (HP/DM)


A blanket of snow coated the streets, flakes still falling as it danced in the light of the old street lamps. A young man suddenly appeared between numbers 11 and 13 Grimmauld Place, his bleach blonde hair almost indistinguishable from the snowflakes clinging to the strands. It had been many years since Draco Malfoy had visited the old House of Black; he had just been a child at the time and he barely remembered much besides the gloomy corridors and the sweets his Great Aunt spoilt him with.

He returned again, now an adult, to seek out the half blood who now owned the home of the old pure blood family. Once Draco may have been horrified that anyone but a pureblood had taken residence in the old house but Malfoy had grown since then and returned with the hope that, after all these years, his old school rival would grant him mercy. The hope was feeble but it was still hope and its embers refused to die.

Striding over to number 12, the blonde tapped the old knocker with his wand and it knocked three times. A moment passed before the door creaked open, a short creature with bat-like ears and a scruffy cloth wrapped around it's waist like a loincloth opened the door with a croaky "Yes?".

Draco recognised Kreacher but his urgency didn't allow him the luxury of reminiscing and simply answered "I'm here to see Potter."

The house elf gave a low bow. "Master Harry is asleep. Kreacher will wake the master."

Draco stepped inside as the old elf hurried up the staircase, the door closing behind him. The hallway was just as dim as he remembered but the walls had been stripped and photo frames that could be moved had been moved. Evidence of redecoration littered the path to the dinning room door, just past the stairs.

The patter of bare feet was audible from the bottom of the stairs where Draco waited, shifting impatiently from one foot to the other. Finally, a young man with messy black hair and bottle here eyes made his way down to meet his guest, dressed in comfortably baggy jeans and an old t-shirt.

"Malfoy?" Harry could only express surprise as the identity of his guest hit him. It had been years since he had seen the pureblood Wizard and, while they had not parted as enemies, they had not been friends either. "What brings you here... At four in the morning?"

"I..." Draco hesitated, not exactly sure of how to begin. "I need your help."

If Harry was shocked, he hid it well. Without a word, he led Draco to the drawing room where he sat down and features for the blonde Wizard to sit too. "If you're coming to me, you must be desperate," the glass of glasses glinted in the fire that had ignited in the fireplace as soon as the two young men had entered, "What can I do for you?"

Draco hesitated; the last time Harry had helped, Malfoy and his mother had been spared Azkaban but at the expense of their wands. For two years they had to live without magic as punishment for their crimes and they had accepted this with grace and gratitude, preferring this to the alternative. Of course, Lucius Malfoy could not be spared but for no lack of trying on Harry's part. All the crimes of the Head of the Malfoy family mounted up and there could be no redemption for a man who had sought none.

"Potter... Harry," he tried to keep his tone level but his silver grey eyes were fixed on deep green, wide and pleading, "My father... He's dying. I haven't seen him, they won't let me see him but he's fading away in there. He won't live to see the spring."

Harry leaned back in his seat. "What exactly are you asking for, Malfoy?"

The blonde swallowed nervously as his eyes cast themselves down to his clasped hands, "I... He should be at home," he sounded like a child, "I was hoping... You have contacts in the ministry. The mud- the Granger girl... I was hoping you could talk to her. Persuade her to let Father die at home." Even as he spoke, he felt the hope drain out of him. It seemed impossible that his family would be granted further kindness from the Boy who Lived but he needed it nevertheless.

"I will see what I can do," Harry offered, "but I can't make any promises."

Draco's head snapped back up, his eyes darting to Harry's as if searching for the lie. Finding only honesty, he whispered, "Thank you."

Harry nodded and there was silence.

* * *

There were many things that Harry thought he would be using Hermione's position as the youngest Minister of Magic in a century for but getting Lucius Malfoy out of Azkaban was not one of them. It was a kindness he thought himself beyond after Lucius had given Riddle's diary to Ginny Weasely and the drama in the Department of Mysteries but, after all, it wasn't for Lucius that he was aiding in the Death Eater's release.

Harry got a glimpse of the dying Malfoy as he was released, slumped in a wheelchair and unable to walk on his own. Recognising the signs of late stages of cancer, Harry felt nothing but pity for the family and allowed them their privacy. He was sure that Draco had been informed correctly; his father would not last until spring.

February saw the arrival of the invitation to the funeral of Lucius Malfoy.

Harry attended, dressed smartly in his black dress robes, his messy hair still wild and untamed. He greeted Mrs Malfoy who quietly thanked the young man for his part in allowing Lucius to die surrounded by his family. She took her seat at the front of the garden, the Malfoy family Mausoleum just beyond, carved out of the whitest marble and surrounded by white lilies.

Draco, and some other blondes that Harry assumed were relatives, walked along side the floating casket that contained the corpse of the head of the Malfoy family. It was set down at the front and Draco opened the casket to say a last farewell to one of only two people he had been sure loved him. He took his seat beside his mother and bowed his head in grief, unable to cry, unable to be weak for fear of shame.

As if seeking proof of the Death Eater's demise, many people took turns to look upon the hollowed face of the dead man who lay still, unmoving in his final bed. They say that the dead look though they might have been sleeping but this could not be said for Lucius Malfoy; no amount of spells or preparation could keep the thin, empty look from the worn body, nor the grey tinge that malnutrition had brought to the flesh. He did not look asleep.

He just looked dead.

For a long time, there was silence except for the snowy white peacocks tramping about the grounds. At last, Narcissa Malfoy stood, her heartache evident in every movement and in her face. Her voice, however, was steady as she spoke, telling the crowd of a love story; an arranged marriage where the bride and groom had fallen in love. She spoke of a life lived fully, spoke of a life gifted with love and a child.

She confessed that Lucius had wanted more children, a daughter or a son as a life long friend to their first born but Narcissa had fallen ill. She could no longer bare a child and live. Lucius loved her more than he wanted another child.

Harry glanced quickly at Draco during this speech and knew instantly that this was news to the new head of the Malfoy family.

When Mrs Malfoy had finished, she returned to her son as her husband's casket was closed and sealed inside the Mausoleum. No one moved for a few minutes, allowing a respectful silence for the grieving widow and son. Finally, people began to leave, one by one at first and then, in noisy clusters. Narcissa Malfoy went inside, retiring to her bedroom with some tea and a bottle of scotch.

Draco remained by the family Mausoleum. Harry approached cautiously, keeping silent as he stood beside the blonde who did not acknowledge the dark haired wizard's presence for several long minutes. "Thank you for coming," Malfoy said stiffly, his eyes fixed on the doors his father had disappeared behind. "Father... He regretted siding with V-Voldemort," he choked out the name but Harry understood the courage it took to say the name, even now, "Not because he was evil. Father chose the wrong side but he chose the side he thought we would survive."

"I know," Harry's voice was soft, reassuring as he placed a comforting hand on Draco's shoulder, "You don't need to explain. It's over now."

Grey eyes flickered up to green and Harry realised that Malfoy was holding back his tears with difficulty. "I..." a sob shook his slender frame and, without hesitation, Harry's warm arms wrapped around Malfoy who desolved into silent tears. His pale fingers gripped Harry's dress robes tightly as he allowed himself to be held.

"I've got you," Harry murmured, holding Draco until those tears subsided and he stopped shaking. "It's ok," he felt Malfoy withdraw and Harry used his sleeve to wipe the tears from those flushed cheeks. "All better."

Draco sniffed, calming down now he had flooded over. "Sorry."

Harry gave him an understanding smile. "I know what it is to loose someone," he told his old rival. "Never be ashamed to cry. Never be ashamed of how you feel."

Draco nodded.

* * *

A blanket of snow coated the streets, flakes still falling as it danced in the light of the old street lamps. A young man suddenly appeared between numbers 11 and 13 Grimmauld Place, his bleach blonde hair almost indistinguishable from the snowflakes clinging to the strands. It had been three months since Draco Malfoy had visited the old House of Black and only a week since he had last seen the owner.

He strode over to number 12 and pulled out his wand, tapping it to the knocker which knocked three times. Kreacher answered but Malfoy was in no mood for formalities and greetings. "I need to see Harry... I don't care if he's asleep, Kreacher," he snapped impatiently and the old elf hurried off to wake his master. In a few minutes, a dazed Harry Potter was hurrying down the stairs.

"Malfoy? It's three in the morning!" He halted in front of the blonde, "What is it? What's wrong?"

Draco opened and closed his mouth several times, his expression pleading, "I..." he ran his fingers through his hair, "at the funeral... I... Fuck..." he kicked the wall furiously.

"Ok... Calm down," Harry said, gripping Draco's shoulder to ease him which seemed to work. "Start from the beginning."

A long pause followed.

"You said I shouldn't be ashamed," Draco finally spoke, his voice soft and his cheeks red. "Of how I feel, to show how I feel."

Harry's brows closed in a confused frown, "Yeah, what abo-mmm.."

Firm lips against Harry's silenced him for a moment as they moulded against his own, parting slightly with Harry's and then it was over as Draco withdrew just slightly. "I'm sorry," he whispered, their lips brushing together as he spoke, "I had to do that at least once..."

Harry couldn't speak, his head swimming with all these thoughts and feelings that he didn't know how to process so he did the only thing he could do; he pressed Draco against the wall and kissed him fervently. The Slytherin responded eagerly, groaning as he hooked his arms around the Gryffindor's shoulders and tangled his fingers with those dark locks. Their tongues met and Harry gripped Malfoy's waist, pulling it closer as he pressed closer.

Stumbling and kissing, they found themselves through a door and on a sofa, tearing at clothing in their need to be closer. Draco gasped as his neck was nibbled, his shirt discarded somewhere in the room as Harry's mouth went lower. "Oh... Oh fuck..." the blonde's head was thrown back as his cock was engulfed by warmth, his trousers at his ankles and one shoe had gone missing. He neither knew nor cared where it had gone at that moment; all that mattered was the wonderful things Harry was doing to him.

Harry's fingers had pushed into Draco who was squirming and moaning, calling for more in his greedy haze of lust and pleasure. His cock was leaking in Harry's mouth, so close to his orgasm but Potter stopped before that could happen. A few choice swear words sprung to Draco's lips but he didn't get a chance to use them.

"Bend over," Harry ordered.

Awkwardly shifting about, Draco found himself more than willing to obey. He kicked off his trousers and gripped the back of the couch as his kneels dug into cushions. Hands on his hips let him know where Harry was and he groaned as he was shoved into. "Fuck... Merlin, Potter... Fuck me..."

Harry was glad to and slammed forward, driving his cock hard and deep into the blonde bent before him. The more noise Draco made, the faster Harry moved and Draco made a lot of noise. Harry wasn't quiet either, mindlessly moaning as he hammered into his lover. Reaching over, Harry gripped Draco's shoulder and rammed himself in harder as the blonde trembled beneath him.

"I can't... I... Shit, Potter..." Draco whimpered, unable to speak coherently with Harry inside him. Again, he was so close to his orgasm and this time, Harry didn't stop. Draco came with a cry and Harry was behind him, pumping his release into his lover as they road out their orgasm.

Panting heavily, Harry withdrew and plonked himself ungraciously beside his lover. Draco curled up against him, his legs feeling much like the jelly-leg jinx had been set on him. For a moment, the two simply caught their breath and recovered.

"That was..." the blonde paused.

"Really good? Amazing? Mind blowing?" Harry offered.

"Unexpected," Draco finished, "but yeah, all those things too."

"You weren't expecting me to want you too?"

Draco shook his head. "Not after... Everything."

Harry considered this for a moment then got up. "I guess I understand," he said as he helped Draco to his feet. "Your side of the war, your family and our rivalry." He mused as he led the way up the stairs to one of the bathrooms. "But we've grown up since all that and I haven't forgotten what you did when I got captured by snatchers." He gave Draco a lopsided smile at the blonde's surprise, "You thought I didn't know you knew it was me?"

A red flush rose to Malfoy's cheeks.

Harry chuckled and turned on the shower, pulling the exdeath eater in with him. "Are you staying the night?" he asked as he wrapped his arms around his lover from behind under the spray of the shower. Draco nodded, closing his eyes as Harry kissed along his neck. "Good," he murmured and turned Draco to face him, their mouths clashing together again.

Then Harry was inside Draco again, screwing him against the wet, tiled wall.


End file.
